


Before Anyone Else

by Jaiden_S



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance, Stucky - Freeform, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 11:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21298466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaiden_S/pseuds/Jaiden_S
Summary: “Tony? It’s Steve. I’m in the guest flat on the 89th floor and something has happened, but I don’t know what. Your AI is malfunctioning, calling herself FRIDAY, says JARVIS is offline, won’t open the shutters, won’t let me leave, and keeps asking for a damned passcode. Even the furniture is different. What is going on? Call me back. Now.”Bucky’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Steve??! But he’s gone. He passed away yesterday. That has to be an old voicemail.”“It’s not. Like I said, it came this morning. I was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast when the phone rang,” Pepper replied.The aftermath of Thanos’ destruction leaves a huge void, especially for the remaining Avengers. When a time rift pulls the Steve Rogers from 2012 forward in time to 2023, Bucky Barnes is afraid to get too close. The Steve he knew left him to live a life in the past. Would this Steve make the same choice?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 33
Kudos: 422
Collections: Marvel Big Bang 2019





	Before Anyone Else

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Marvel Big Bang 2019
> 
> Accompanying artwork by Emma The Slayer  
[ Before Anyone Else Artwork by Emma the Slayer](https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/emmatheslayer/72425844/3827176/3827176_original.jpg)  
https://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/608966.html

Before Anyone Else – Marvel Bang  
Author – Jaiden S  
Fandom – Avengers  
Pairing – Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes  
Other characters: Pepper Potts, Sam Wilson, Nick Fury, Wanda Maximoff, Bruce Banner.  
Rating – NC-17/Adult  
Word count – 17566  
Artwork - Emma The Slayer - https://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/608966.html

Summary –   
_ “Tony? It’s Steve. I’m in the guest flat on the 89th floor and something has happened, but I don’t know what. Your AI is malfunctioning, calling herself FRIDAY, says JARVIS is offline, won’t open the shutters, won’t let me leave, and keeps asking for a damned passcode. Even the furniture is different. What is going on? Call me back. Now.” _

_Bucky’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Steve??! But he’s gone. He passed away yesterday. That has to be an old voicemail.”_

_“It’s not. Like I said, it came this morning. I was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast when the phone rang,” Pepper replied._

The aftermath of Thanos’ destruction leaves a huge void, especially for the remaining Avengers. When a time rift pulls the Steve Rogers from 2012 forward in time to 2023, Bucky Barnes is afraid to get too close. The Steve he knew left him to live a life in the past. Would this Steve make the same choice?

~*~  
_New York City, 2012_

Steve squinted in confusion. The man standing on the walkway directly in front of him, the one in the blue and red suit, the one swinging a star-spangled shield around like he meant business…was him, or it looked like him. He held a scepter, though. Loki’s scepter. 

“Loki, give it up. We’ve captured you once. We can do it again. Surrender now and I’ll ask Thor to take it easy on you.”

The man squinted right back at him, and said calmly, “I’m not Loki. I’m you from the future. You have to believe me.”

Steve’s eyebrows arched as he studied the man’s face. Open and earnest. The same jawline that he shaved every morning, the same blue eyes that stared back at him from the mirror but perhaps a bit more world-weary, the same high forehead with a few new creases.

It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. Loki was the only explanation. Gritting his teeth, he swung, but the man dodged his fist like he knew his fighting style. They exchanged blows. Toe-to-toe. Each exchange was a mirror image. Their fighting styles were identical.

Steve stepped back, winded, his chest heaving. “I can do this all day.”

“Yeah, I know,” Loki replied with exasperation lacing his tone. All at once, he lunged, grasping Steve in a headlock and dragging him to the glass railing of the skywalk. Their momentum carried them right through it, crashing down several floors below. 

“Stand down,” Loki entreated him. “Let me pass. Please. I don’t have time for this.”

Steve grunted and shoved an elbow into Loki’s gut trying to dislodge him. Nothing seemed to work, though. Loki was stronger than he’d given him credit for.

And then, out of the blue, Loki uttered a phrase that changed everything. 

“Bucky is alive.”

“What?!”

Steve’s heart leapt in his chest and he hesitated, relaxing his grip on Loki’s arm long enough for the trickster to do his damage. Another punch to the face sent him reeling. He shook his head and regained his footing just in time to see Loki grab the scepter and touch it to his chest. Everything went black.

When Steve awoke, Loki was gone.

He raised his head and raked a hand through his hair, shards of glass from the shattered glass walkway falling onto his shoulders. Loki had disappeared, but his words lingered. Was Bucky alive? Loki would have done or said anything to escape, but Steve couldn’t simply dismiss Loki’s comment out of hand. He pushed up to a sitting position and punched in Tony’s number on his cell phone. 

“Loki attacked me and got away,” he said the instant Tony answered.

“What do you mean? He’s muzzled up like a rabid Chihuahua in protective custody right now, as we speak, until Heavy Metal Front Man can take the tour back to Asgard.” Tony swung his feet over the edge of the gurney in the back of an ambulance and sat up. An emergency medical technician (EMT) tried to protest, but Tony waved him off.

“He was here,” Steve argued, “dressed up like me, suit, shield and everything. And he claimed that my best friend, Bucky Barnes, was alive.”

“SHIELD has him cuffed up to his eyelashes and escorted by thugs who’d make Hulk do a double take. I watched them take him to the elevator. So did you.” Tony swatted at the hands of another EMT who kept trying to take his blood pressure. “I’m fine. Just a little blip,” he griped at the offending EMT in question with his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. 

“But did you see him actually escorted out of the building? And are you absolutely certain you know where he is right now?”

There was a long, tense pause on the phone. Steve shifted it to his other ear. “He had the scepter when I saw him on the skywalk. What if he has the Tesseract, too?”

“…Goddammit,” Tony groaned. “Give me a few minutes to check the surveillance cameras and meet me in the second floor conference room.”

Steve climbed to his feet and nodded, even though he knew Tony couldn’t hear a nod. “Right. I’ll be there in ten.”

~*~

The second floor conference room in Stark Towers was state of the art, with surround sound and big screen monitors and 3-D projection all worthy of Stark innovative technology. Steve pushed open the glass door and found a seat on the near side of a large conference table. Tony was seated across the table, typing furiously on the keyboard of a sleek laptop. 

“Stark,” Steve said with a tight-lipped smile. “Feels like I just saw you.”

Tony glanced up from the laptop. “You were right, Steve. You were fighting yourself.” With a click of a button, surveillance video from a half hour earlier appeared on a large screen in the front of the room. Another Steve, one more lined and wearied and grizzled, exchanged blows with him, ending the exchange with a headlock and the phrase “Bucky is alive.” Tony froze that image on the screen.

“See? I told you,” exclaimed Steve, half rising from his chair. “Loki posing as me.”

“No,” Tony slowly replied. “Look at the time stamp at the bottom of your wonder-twin fight and then look at this.” Another video popped up on an adjacent screen of Loki being subdued and walked off under heavy guard, with the same exact time stamp of the fight that was happening with Steve. “I don’t know who you were fighting, but it wasn’t Loki. SHIELD was duckwalking him out the door…right up until I had a heart attack and he escaped.” Another few seconds of video feed showed the briefcase holding the Tesseract skitter across the floor and pop open right in front of Loki.

“I knew it!” Steve leapt to his feet and pointed at the screen as Loki grabbed the Tesseract and disappeared.

Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t explain the differences in the time stamps. Yes, Loki escaped, but not until after your fight.”

Steve flung both hands in the air, exasperated, and began to pace. “Who is it, Tony, if it’s not Loki?”

“You. A future version of you based on the crow’s feet and slightly receding hairline. Your ass is still phenomenal, though.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

Tony eyed him silently.

“What? Are you gonna dazzle me with some sort of space-time continuum theory?”

Tony pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I was going to, but you just took all the fun out of it.”

Steve stopped mid-pace and stood with his hands on his hips and an incredulous look on his face. “You’re serious.”

Tony tapped the arc reactor embedded in his chest. “Serious as a heart attack. Given the right parameters, time travel is possible, especially now that we have a missing Tesseract.”

“It could be Loki from the future.” Steve glanced back up at the big screen and stared into a face that was nearly identical to his own. “Occam’s Razor. The simplest solution is the most likely.”

“Could be, but this guy knew you well enough to utter the one phrase that would cause you to hesitate. Does Loki even know who Bucky is?”

Steve’s eyes never left the screen. “No. He wouldn’t have known about Bucky.”

“Then you have to at least consider the possibility that you just battled yourself.”

Steve stepped closer to the screen and studied both of his own faces intently. “If that really was me, then it means that Bucky Barnes could actually be alive.”

~*~

Though only a few hours had passed since it happened, the news that Loki had escaped with the Tesseract sent the rest of the Avengers into overdrive. Thor returned to Asgard to ask Heimdall’s help to locate Loki. Bruce Banner joined Tony in the conference room where they frantically searched every spot on Earth for traces of that particular spectrum of radiation. Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff headed upstairs to attack their network of contacts, calling and texting and emailing each one to see if there was any news of either Loki or the Tesseract. So far, none of the searches had turned up anything.

Steve felt useless. Though he tried to understand the Science Bro jargon that Bruce and Tony batted around, he couldn’t quite grasp it. He fired off a quick text to Natasha. 

_where are you? I need your help._

_ 90th floor. Guest suite. Have pizza._

If she had pizza, Clint must be actually working. Steve punched the 90 button in the elevator and leaned back against the rear wall as it rocketed skyward. He still wasn’t used to the speed of the damned thing. The doors silently slid open into a colossal room that Tony had quaintly named the Guest Suite. It was massive with sleek finishes and floor-to-ceiling windows and opulent enough for a head of state.

Nat and Clint sat at a long marble-topped bar dividing the sitting area from the kitchen, each one juggling laptops and cell phones, fielding calls and texts and emails from contacts worldwide.

“Hey,” called Steve as he stepped off the elevator.

Nat held up one hand, her other one furiously thumbing out a text message. Clint huffed a long, loud sigh and turned toward Steve.

“Hell of a day,” Clint said, raking a hand through his hair. “Nothing like winning a battle just to find out you lost the war.”

Steve shrugged. “At least you didn’t have your ass handed to you by your future self.”

Nat set her phone aside and swiveled around on the barstool. “Tony forwarded us the video. It’s insane.”

“So, when you punched him in the face, did you feel it, too?” Clint’s mouth twitched at the corner. “I mean, it was you fighting you.”

Nat shoved Clint’s shoulder with her free hand. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“How do you know? It might,” Clint fired back. “Have you ever fought yourself?”

Steve folded his arms over his chest. “If you two are finished, I need your help.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Clint began, until Natasha shot him a look. 

“Sure, Steve,” she said, dragging her eyes away from Clint after one last, withering glare. “I could use a break. What do you need?”

“When I fought…myself…the other me said that Bucky Barnes was alive,” Steve said, walking over to perch on an empty barstool next to Nat. “I seemed sure of it, and I wasn’t lying. I’d know, I think. It seems impossible that Bucky could have survived, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You want me to dig around, pull some strings, and peek in a database or two? I can do that. I know a guy,” Nat said with an elegant arch of her eyebrow. “If the other Steve made a point of telling you Bucky was alive, he must have had a reason. Maybe he wants you to save him.”

Steve blinked slowly, his eyes unfocused. “I couldn’t save him. I watched him fall from the train to his death. How could he still be alive?”

“You’re still alive.”

“Yeah, but I volunteered to become a lab rat and was frozen for decades. Nobody could survive that sort of fall and still be alive today.” 

“Erskine wasn’t the only one who developed a super soldier serum. Zola had one, too. Remind me again, Steve…who was Schmidt’s chief scientist? And who was it you two were trying to capture in the Alps the day Bucky fell? Think about it.”

As the realization of Nat’s words sank in, Steve spiraled wildly between horror and hope. “Oh, god. Bucky.” The world tilted on its axis. He reached out a hand to steady himself on a nearby barstool. “If Zola captured him again...”

Natasha reached out and laid a hand on his bicep and gave it a little squeeze. “I’ll find out what I can, Steve, but you may not like what turns up. There have been rumors of other supersoldiers, and they’re not all heroes.”

Steve set his jaw, determined. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. If Bucky is out there alive, I have to find him.”

~*~

Originally, Steve had planned to leave NYC, do some traveling, see parts of the East Coast that he’d never visited before, but after everything that had happened, he decided to stay in Stark Tower. Tony let him use a suite on the 89th floor so that he was close to the rest of the Avengers.

After two days, there was still no trace of the Tesseract. Loki had spirited it away somewhere off the planet entirely, which Steve reckoned wouldn’t be a bad thing if it were in the hands of anyone else. An insane trickster with an unlimited source of power and a delusion of grandeur spelled disaster.

He’d just finished up breakfast and was suiting up to go for a run when he heard a light rap of knuckles against his door. 

“Come in!” He finished tying his running shoes as Natasha walked in, a thick file in her hands. 

“I printed it all out for you since I know you’re old school.” She dropped the file on the coffee table in front of him.

Steve eyed the folder as if it were a coiled viper. “What is it?”

“Bucky’s intelligence file.” Nat sat down on the loveseat across from Steve’s chair and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Once I knew what I was looking for, I was able to cross reference Bucky’s DNA with the SHIELD database and came up with the file in front of you. He’s known as the Winter Soldier, a supersoldier created from Zola’s version of the serum. Like you, he has amazing healing abilities. Also like you, he’s been frozen and lived to tell the tale. According to my sources, he’s been acting as a HYDRA agent for decades, part of a shadow network of agents and assassins. They keep him on ice when he’s not active, and thaw him out when they need him.”

As Steve picked up the file, a photo slipped out, a face-shot of Bucky eyes closed, frozen in a chamber. His stomach wrenched. “Bucky,” he breathed, dropping the rest of the file onto his lap, his eyes locked on the photo. 

Nat shifted in her seat. “He’s not Bucky anymore. He’s a killing machine. Chances are high that he won’t remember you.”

Steve’s eyes never moved from Bucky’s photo. “No. Somewhere in there is the Bucky I know. He’ll recognize me. I’ll make sure of it.” 

~*~

Steve blinked in the darkness. He’d fallen asleep the night before reading Bucky’s file. The bedside light had been on, but now the entire flat was pitch black. He sat up in the bed and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“JARVIS, turn on the lights, please.”

Much to his surprise, a female voice responded. “Identification?”

Steve jerked to full attention. “What?”

“Identification?” the female voice repeated.

“Captain Steven Grant Rogers. Date of birth, July 4, 1918. Parents Sarah and Joseph Rogers.”

“Verbal identification confirmed. Rogers, Steven Grant. Passcode?”

Passcode? Steve had no idea about any passcode, so he chose to ignore it.

The lights in the apartment came on dimly, but did not rise to full illumination. Steve swung his legs over the side of his bed, rubbed his eyes again and walked to the main sitting area. 

Even in the dim lighting, everything looked different. Though the basic layout of the flat was the same, the furniture had changed from sleek black leather to soft cream. The end tables that were once chrome and glass were now polished oak. And every bit of it was covered in a thick layer of dust. Steve waved his hand in front of his face and coughed. The floor-to-ceiling windows which had offered a stunning view of Midtown Manhattan were heavily shuttered. Steve crossed the room and tugged at the nearest one. It wouldn’t budge.

“JARVIS? Open the window shutters, please.”

“JARVIS is offline. I am FRIDAY.”

“FRIDAY, then.” Steve frowned. When had Tony changed the AI? “Please open the shutters.”

“Passcode?”

“I don’t know any passcode. Just call up the elevator,” huffed Steve. If he couldn’t even get the shutters to open, he may as well leave.

“Passcode?”

Alarmed, Steve lunged for the front door, giving the handle a hard tug. It didn’t wiggle an inch.

“I want out of here right now, or I’m going to bust my way out,” he growled. His shield was right where he’d left it next to the front door. Thankfully, that hadn’t changed. He gripped it firmly with both hands and brought it down hard against the door latch. The entire door shuddered, but it remained steadfastly locked. 

“Passcode?”

Steve wheeled around wildly, eyes scanning the flat for a way out, but found nothing. Even the air conditioning vents were well-sealed. And, to make things worse, that AI kept bleating about a damned passcode. 

Now that he was fully awake, he noticed that the bedroom furniture had morphed in his sleep, too. He found his cell phone on the bedside table, thankfully, and furiously scrolled through his contacts until he found Tony’s number.

Of course, it went right to voice mail. That asshole. “Tony? It’s Steve. I’m in the guest flat on the 89th floor and something has happened, but I don’t know what. Your AI is malfunctioning, calling herself FRIDAY, says JARVIS is offline, won’t open the shutters, won’t let me leave, and keeps asking for a damned passcode. Even the furniture is different. What is going on? Call me back. Now.”

~*~  
_ Upstate New York, 2023_

Bucky had known the instant he’d hugged Steve outside the Avengers base that he wasn’t coming back. Deep in his gut, he knew that Steve would find a way to get back to Peggy, which is exactly what happened. Even though he’d known it was coming and had tried to mentally brace himself, it still hurt like a shot to the gut and he was right back where he’d always been. Alone. 

The older Steve that he’d chatted with on the bench later that day was still his friend, sure, but it wasn’t the same. Steve had moved on. He’d lived an entire lifetime without Bucky, had experiences and memories to which Bucky could never relate. They’d smiled, hugged, exchanged promises to have lunch and catch up sometime soon.

They never got the chance.

A few days later the call came from a home health nurse at an assisted living facility just outside the city. Steve ‘Carter’ had passed quietly in his sleep. He’d asked to be cremated. There were no living relatives. The nurse manager wasn’t sure what to do with his things. Bucky volunteered to take care of them. It was the least he could do.

Sam offered to come with him, but Bucky declined. Going through Steve’s personal belongings was something he needed to do on his own. Perhaps he could find a bit of closure. Anything to ease the ache in his heart.

A young nurse with a pleasant smile let Bucky into the studio apartment. It was small and bright, but sparsely decorated. An easy chair. A coffee table scattered with newspapers and gardening magazines. A single bed. A nightstand with a framed photo of Peggy. Another, smaller photo of him and Bucky from their days in the Howling Commandos. “I love you both,” Steve had once said, “just in different ways.”

_And in different amounts_ Bucky thought to himself. He’d never doubted Steve’s friendship, his brotherly love and affection. He knew, though, that if a choice had to be made, Steve would always choose Peggy.

But he would always choose Steve. Always. Before anyone else.

Even now, when he could have left this particularly painful task to someone who was less emotionally entangled in the situation, he chose to be here. It’s what Steve would have wanted, and he’d choose Steve even if Steve wasn’t around to know it. 

Carefully, he began sorting Steve’s personal belongings into piles, wrapping up photos and memorabilia to donate to the Smithsonian, folding clothes to go to Goodwill, and dumping everything else into a large plastic bag to be tossed in the dumpster. It didn’t take long. Steve didn’t have much in the way of material things to begin with. 

A few weeks ago, Bucky had rented his own two bedroom apartment near Midtown, not far from Avengers Tower. When Fury first recruited him to join the new Avengers, he’d said no but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he could do something positive with the dark gift he’d been given. Maybe even wipe off some of the blood on his hands. His first assignment would likely come soon. 

His cellphone rang just as he arrived back at his own apartment. He glanced at the caller ID. Pepper Potts.

“Hi,” he said quietly. 

“Hi, Bucky,” Pepper said, sounding like she was calling from the car. “Where are you?”

“At my apartment, just back from packing up Steve’s things. Why?”

“Perfect. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there,” Pepper replied just as the line went dead.

Bucky pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. That was odd. Why did Pepper need to see him? His relationship with Tony had been strained, to say the least, and he really didn’t have a relationship at all with Pepper.

“Alright,” he sighed and shrugged back out of his jacket and fired off a text.

Almost ten minutes later, a knock sounded on his door. Pepper stood on the landing, wearing a sad smile and a designer trench coat that probably cost more than most people made in a year.

“Come in,” he said, holding the door for her. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You, too. We’ve both been through a lot lately, haven’t we?” She gave his arm a squeeze as she passed by, and found a seat on his sofa, dropping her Prada handbag on the coffee table. After a moment of digging around inside of it, she pulled out a cellphone. “This was Tony’s phone. It was so much a part of him. I wasn’t ready to let it go, not yet.” 

Bucky sat on the other end of the sofa and turned toward her, eyeing the phone with silent curiosity. 

“It rang early this morning. I let it go to voice mail, and, well, it’s something you need to hear.” She unlocked the phone, went to the voicemail app and put the phone on speaker. 

_ Tony? It’s Steve. I’m in the guest flat on the 89th floor and something has happened, but I don’t know what. Your AI is malfunctioning, calling herself FRIDAY, says JARVIS is offline, won’t open the shutters, won’t let me leave, and keeps asking for a damned passcode. Even the furniture is different. What is going on? Call me back. Now._

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Steve??! But he’s gone. He passed away yesterday. That has to be an old voicemail.”

“It’s not. Like I said, it came this morning. I was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast when the phone rang,” Pepper replied, her own eyes wide. “It’s probably not Steve, but given everything else that has happened, what if it is? You know him better than anyone. I’m going to call the number back right now, with you sitting here, and you can tell me what you think.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, absolutely,” Bucky said, still bewildered. “That’s…yeah.”

Pepper hit the button to call the number back. Immediately a voice came on the line. 

“Took your damned time calling me back, Stark,” said an irritated voice that sounded exactly like Steve Rogers. “What is going on? When did you replace JARVIS with FRIDAY and why do I need a passcode to raise the shutters on the windows or operate the elevator or GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE?”

Pepper and Bucky exchanged incredulous looks. “Steve?” Pepper tentatively asked.

“Yeah, is this Pepper? Where is Tony? What is going on?”

“Tony’s…gone,” Pepper managed. She swallowed thickly and lifted her chin. “This is going to sound strange, but can you tell me today’s date?”

“May 15, 2012. Why?”

Pepper’s hand flew to her mouth. Bucky couldn’t manage to do anything but stare at the phone in disbelief.

“Is someone going to tell me what is going on?” Steve asked again, his voice rising. 

“Steve, just stay put. We’re coming to you,” Pepper replied when she found her voice. “Give us half an hour.”

“Okay, but you had better have a good explanation for keeping me locked in the Tower,” Steve barked before he hung up.

“Holy fuck,” Bucky breathed when the line went dead. 

“Unbelievable,” agreed Pepper. “Tony had speculated about time travel causing entire timelines to unravel, but I doubt he thought anything like this could happen.”

“What are we going to do?” Bucky’s eyes darted from the phone to Pepper and back again. “Walk up in there and tell him he’s leaped eleven years into the future?”

“Let’s think about it,” Pepper said. “In May 2012, everything was still brand new to him. He’d just come out of the ice a few months earlier. It may be confusing to him, but we can’t lie to him about his timeline. They tried convincing him he was still in the 1940’s when he first awakened and he immediately knew something was off. We have to be honest with him about everything.”

“You’re right,” Bucky sighed, scrubbing his hand down the side of his face. “But what about me? In 2012, he had no idea I was even alive. Maybe I should stay here.”

“No,” Pepper firmly dismissed. “You’re his best friend. He’ll need your support.”

Bucky’s eyes clouded. At one time, that was true, but now…? He swallowed down his concerns. “Alright. Let’s get going.” 

~*~

Thirty minutes later, Bucky paced nervously inside the Avengers Tower elevator as it raced upward to the 89th floor.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet,” Pepper mused as Bucky stalked back and forth behind her.

“Right,” he muttered, forcing himself to stop. He settled for leaning back against the rear of the thing and tapping his metal hand against the handrail.

Pepper decided she preferred the pacing to the ping-ping of metal against metal. Mercifully, the elevator stopped before she had to murder him. The door slowly slid open. In front of them was the door to the guest flat.

Taking a deep breath, Pepper knocked on the door gently with her knuckles before sliding a key in the look to unlatch the door. Bucky hung back near the elevator.

An irritated Steve Rogers greeted her when the door flew open, arms folded across his chest, face pinched into a scowl that only slightly relaxed when he saw Pepper’s familiar face.

“Pepper? What is going on? Why was I locked in?”

“I’m so sorry about all the trouble,” she said with a serene smile. “Sometimes Tony’s protocols can be a bit over the top.”

“No, it’s more than that,” Steve persisted. “Everything has changed. The furniture, the décor, even you look different. Your hair is longer and lighter than it was a few days ago.” He looked her right in the eyes, his own gaze steely. “I need to know the truth about what has happened. I deserve that much.”

“You do, you absolutely do,” agreed Pepper. “That’s why we’re here. We have a lot to tell you.”

“We? I thought you said Tony was gone.” Steve looked over her shoulder toward the elevator, his gaze falling on a long-haired man in a dark jacket lingering just beside the closed doors. A man who looked achingly familiar. A man whose photo he’d been staring at for the last 24 hours. Steve’s eyes grew round with shock.

The man raised one hand and wiggled his fingers. “Hiya, Stevie.”

“Bucky?” Steve stepped past Pepper and into the hallway, his wide eyes sweeping up and down the man who stood in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Bucky.” He smiled and shoved both hands in his pockets.

Steve let out a soft cry somewhere between joy and disbelief and rushed forward, crushing Bucky in a ferocious embrace. “Oh, God, Buck. It’s you, it’s really you. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

And just like that, Bucky’s heart broke all over again. Slowly, he raised his arms and wrapped them around Steve’s waist and let himself be enveloped. His head warned him to hold back, but his heart leapt anyway because it was Steve. For him, it always came down to Steve.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Steve mumbled, his face tucked in against Bucky’s neck. “When you fell...when you fell, it nearly broke me.”

It wasn’t until he felt moisture against his neck that Bucky realized Steve was crying. Crying over him. His heart thumped hard and deep in his chest. He ran his hand up and down Steve’s spine soothingly. “I’m here now, Steve, and I’m not going anywhere.” And he meant it. Even if Steve left him 1000 times, he’d keep showing up for round 1001.

They clung to each other, locked in a series of grappling hugs and watery smiles and happy chuckles until Pepper discretely cleared her throat.

“Sorry,” Steve grinned, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Bucky. “It’s just, well, Bucky’s my best friend and I thought he was dead, and now he’s here and...” Steve blinked for a minute. “Wait, how is Bucky here with you? How did you find him? How do you even know him? Natasha only found his records in the SHIELD database yesterday.”

Pepper tapped her lips with a well-manicured finger. “About that. We should probably talk. May we come in?”

“Of course,” Steve said a bit sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to be rude, but, well,” His words died on his lips as he grinned back over at Bucky.

“It’s fine,” Pepper reassured him. “I’m sure you’re overwhelmed.”

“Understatement. Huge one,” Steve agreed. He held open the door for Pepper and Bucky to enter the flat, and closed it behind them.

Immediately, FRIDAY started back up with the demands. “Identification?”

“Potts, Pepper. Passcode: Red Hot Mama.”

“Identification confirmed. Welcome, Miss Potts.”

Steve looked bewildered. “Red Hot Mama?”

“Long story,” Pepper smiled, “and you know Tony. Everything is an inside joke.”

“Barnes, James. Passcode: Robocop.” 

“Identification confirmed. Welcome, Sergeant. Barnes.”

When Steve looked at him, Bucky just shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know. Some bad 80’s movie.”

Steve arched an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know what mine is?”

Pepper and Bucky exchanged a look, then said in unison, “America’s ass.”

Steve’s eyes flew back and forth between them for one speechless moment until he heaved a resigned sigh. “Passcode: America’s ass,” he said while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Identification confirmed. Welcome Captain Rogers.”

“Do I even want to know?” Steve cut a look at Bucky, who bit back a grin.

“You always complained about your suit being too tight in the ass. Tony argued that it was your gift to America,” Bucky replied with a toothy smile.

“Of course he did.” Steve ushered them both into the main sitting room and gestured at the dusty sofas that faced each other on either side of a cobweb-covered coffee table. “Brush off a spot and have a seat, and then explain to me what the hell is going on.”

Pepper gingerly perched on the edge of one sofa, while Steve dropped heavily on the one across from her, sending up a frothy cloud of dust that had collected on the cushion. He waved his hand through the cloud, which only pushed the dust around.

Bucky hesitated until Steve patted the cushion next to him, another flurry of dust rising around his hand. He swatted ineffectively at that one, too. “Ugh. Tony needs a better housekeeper. I know he has the money to pay for one.”

Pepper’s pained expression silenced Steve. His expression softened. “Where is Tony?”

Pepper smiled, her eyes brimming with emotion. “Tony and I were together for a long time, first as friends, then as lovers, finally as life partners. We had – have – a daughter. Morgan. She’s five going on twenty.”

Bucky laid a hand on Pepper’s shoulder. “Imagine a kid with Tony’s intelligence, and, thankfully, Pepper’s personality. She’s amazing.”

“You said ‘had’ as in past tense,” Steve noted, his eyes locked onto Pepper’s. 

“He’s gone, Steve. Dead. He sacrificed himself for…well, for all of us. His memorial service was two weeks ago today,” Pepper said, a single tear rolling down her cheek. She dabbed at it with her fingers.

“That can’t be right,” Steve replied. His brow creased and his eyes darted back and forth between Bucky and Pepper. “I talked to him three days ago, right after the battle in New York. The Chitauri came down, we sealed up the rift between worlds, captured Loki. Or, at least, we temporarily captured Loki, and somehow I ended up battling myself. That’s how I knew Buck was alive.”

Bucky’s lips pursed. “Steve, that was eleven years ago.”

“What? No, it was three days ago,” Steve argued, “unless someone put me back on ice again and I randomly lost eleven years.”

Bucky dropped down on the sofa next to Steve, ignoring the cloud of dust that kicked up, and turned to face him. “Nobody put you on ice, but you did randomly lose eleven years. The Steve that you fought was apparently the Steve from our time. He knew I was alive.”

Steve blinked, confused. “So if I’m here, is he back in 2012?”

“Not exactly,” Bucky said. His voice hitched ever so slightly. He hid it behind a cough. “He had to travel back in time to return some powerful stones. His final destination was 1970 at an Air Force base where Peggy Carter was stationed. He decided to stay behind with her.”

“Oh.” Steve’s eyes misted wistfully in a way that made Bucky’s heart ache. “The other me, he had a life with her.”

“Yeah. He went back, hung up the shield and married Peggy. Lived a long, full life. He was happy, right up until he passed away yesterday.”

“And here I am today,” Steve said. “Coincidence?”

Bucky shook his head. “Probably not.”

Steve leaned back against the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s a lot to take in,” he said, his hands clenched together in his lap.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Pepper replied. 

She gave Steve an abbreviated version of the events leading up to Tony’s fateful snap. Sokovia. Ultron. The Infinity Stones. The Accords and the fallout between him and Tony. Thanos. The loss of half the Earth’s population and the fight to bring them all back. Natasha’s self-sacrifice. And, finally, Tony’s decision to give up everything to save the world. By the end of her account, all three of them had shed tears.

“It’s hard to fit eleven years into fifteen minutes,” Pepper said, sniffling through the tears. She dug again in her Prada until she found a small package of tissues and handed them around.

“You did a pretty good job,” Bucky snuffled, wiping his nose with the tissue.

“I can’t believe they’re gone,” Steve said shaking his head. “I saw Natasha last night. She gave me the file on you. I fell asleep reading it. I was going to start searching for you today.”

“You found me.” Bucky offered a lopsided smile. “And you didn’t give up on me, even when I didn’t remember you right away.”

“How? When?” Steve’s blue eyes searched Bucky’s for answers.

“A story for another time,” Bucky said, patting Steve’s knee. “For now, let’s collect your gear and get out of here before we’re attacked by dust mites.”

Steve rose and brushed the dust off of his sweatpants. “I’m pretty sure I fell asleep wearing these, so I hope the rest of my things are still in my duffle bag.”

“Only one way to find out.” Bucky climbed to his feet and sauntered into the bedroom. A file folder marked ‘Barnes, James B.’ lay across the foot of the rumpled bed. He picked it up, glanced at the picture on top and tossed it onto the floor. “You don’t need that anymore. I’m here.”

Steve watched from under heavy brows as the folder fell to the carpet, the papers inside of it scattering and fluttering wildly. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

Bucky’s smile looked strained, but he smiled anyway. “But you did find me. That’s what matters.”

Before Bucky could take another breath, Steve closed the distance between them, hugging him tightly. “I missed you so much.”

“Not as much as I missed you, Punk.” Bucky’s heart fluttered.

Steve snorted a surprised laugh. “Jerk.”

They remained just like that, wrapped up in a fierce hug until Bucky finally clapped Steve on the back and pulled away. “C’mon. Get your shit together. You’re bunking at my place tonight.”

~*~

The drive back to Bucky’s apartment was short, but Steve peppered him with a million questions anyway. Who was Thanos? Why had he come to Earth? What were Infinity Stones? Bucky did his best to answer them, though the insanity of a demi-god proved difficult to define. “Thanos thought he was making the universe a better place by improving the quality of life for those who survived the snap,” he said.

Steve narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw in a way Bucky found to be achingly familiar. “If I’d been here,” he began before Bucky cut him off with a hand to his shoulder.

“You were, and you did your best, we all did, but once he amassed the infinity gauntlet, it was all over. He was unstoppable.”

He pulled his SUV into his assigned parking spot under the building and grabbed Steve’s bag out of the back seat. “Two bedroom apartments come with two parking spaces,” he said, nodding at the empty spot to his left. 

“My motorcycle,” Steve said. “Did the other me have one? Where is it?”

“Yeah, he did,” Bucky said, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder. “Probably still parked right where he left it at the Avengers base, the day he went back in time to return the stones. We can go pick it up this afternoon, if you want. The base itself was destroyed, but we can see if we can find anything of his in the rubble.”

Steve shook his head slowly. “Two of me, but we’re the same person. I wonder if I’ll make the same choices this time around.”

Bucky swallowed down a lump that rose in his throat. “Your genes are the same but the experiences that shaped his personality won’t be the same ones that will shape yours going forward. You may choose to follow a completely different path. It’s your life.”

Steve’s eyes stared off into the middle distance, unfocused. “I can’t imagine ever giving up the shield.”

“Good thing you don’t have to.” Bucky walked to the elevator, keyed in his code and held the door open for Steve to step inside first.

When the elevator doors opened again, they were on the twelfth floor. Bucky’s apartment was a corner unit with a wraparound balcony and an open concept living space. Once they were inside, he led Steve to the guest bedroom, which was on the opposite end from the master. Bucky set it up as an office, with a desk on one side. He’d argued with the realtor about not needing a guest bed, but when she told him it would cost extra to remove it, he decided to leave it be. Now he was glad it was there, even though it was only a bare mattress. He’d make a run to big box store to pick up some sheets and pillows after he dropped Steve back at the Avenger’s base.

“Home, sweet home,” he said, dropping Steve’s bag on the foot of the bed. 

“It still has that new apartment smell,” Steve noted, sniffing the air. “A lot better than your Army tent funk.”

Bucky grinned. “I’ve only been here three weeks. No time to funk it up. Bathroom is through there. I was gonna heat up leftover lasagna for lunch. There’s plenty for two, if you want some.”

“I haven’t eaten since last night, so yeah. That’d be great.”

Steve followed Bucky back into the bright, open-space kitchen. The stainless steel appliances gleamed as if they’d come off some designer showroom floor. He leaned his hands against the bartop and watched as Bucky set the oven to pre-heat and took the pan of lasagna out of the fridge.

“I’d ask if you cooked that, but I know better,” Steve quipped.

“I did, actually,” Bucky grinned as he set the pan on the counter. “As it turns out, I’m pretty good at it.” After he double checked the aluminum foil that covered it, he placed the pan in the oven to heat. “Not that I had much choice but to learn. When you’re on the run, you can’t exactly order takeaway. Gotta fix your own food.”

Steve tilted his head. “On the run as the Winter Soldier or afterward?”

“Afterward.” Bucky leaned on the countertop opposite Steve, his hands braced on either side of his hips. “When I was the Asset, I blindly followed orders, not deviating from them, not even to eat. I’d go days ignoring hunger until they brought me back in and fed me. It wasn’t until after I escaped that I learned to fend for myself, and that included learning to prepare meals.”

“I read in the file that you’d been brainwashed.” Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “And you managed to push through and escape? How did you do that?”

“You.”

Steve couldn’t disguise his shock. “Me?”

Bucky’s lips curled up in a hint of a smile. “I’d been sent to kill you, Natasha and Sam Wilson. You stepped in to fight me off. My mask was ripped off at some point and you recognized me, called me Bucky. When you said my name, everything changed for me. I questioned Hydra, questioned Alexander Pierce, thought for myself for the first time in sixty years, all because I knew the man on the bridge who’d said my name out loud. I didn’t remember anything else from my former life, but I knew you.”

Steve looked down at the countertop for a moment, then met Bucky’s gaze again, his eyes shining. “Best friends to the end of the line.”

“Something like that,” Bucky said. He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the back of a nearby chair. His T-shirt left his metal arm fully exposed.

Steve turned around and propped his hip against the countertop, his eyes studying Bucky’s arm. “The file said you lost your arm when you fell and Hydra made you a metal one.”

“Yep, but I lost that one, too, in fight with Tony. Shuri, a scientist from Wakanda, made this one.” Bucky raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. 

“May I?” Steve pushed off the counter and stepped closer, reaching out to take it into his own hands when Bucky nodded. It felt warmer than he’d imagined, the metal more flexible, the tiny plates shifting and moving silently as he brushed his fingers across Bucky’s palm.

“Can you feel anything?” Steve ran his fingertips up the underside of Bucky’s wrist to the crook of his elbow.

Bucky’s eyes followed those familiar fingertips until they stopped. “Pressure, yes, but not pain or heat or cold. I can tell if someone is touching me. I can feel your fingers.”

“Amazing,” Steve said, his hand wandering up to grip Bucky’s bicep.

“It’s a modern marvel,” Bucky said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“I meant you, not the arm.”

Bucky blinked and stared into Steve’s wide blue eyes. “Huh?”

“To have gone through a series of horrific events and come out the other side able to smile is incredible. Your strength of character astounds me,” Steve said. “You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met, and you’re my best friend. You’re amazing.”

“I’m not,” blurted Bucky, his eyes still locked with Steve’s. “I’m a walking disaster. I’m a fucking mess, who barely holds it together. I’m a headcase with a variety pack of assorted mental health flavors. Every day has been a struggle, especially-” He shook his head and looked away.

“Especially, what?” Steve tightened his grip on Bucky’s arm until he looked back at him.

Bucky forced himself not to look away again. “Especially after you left.” 

Anyone else would have missed the flicker of pain in Steve’s eyes and the flinch in the hand that gripped Bucky’s bicep, but Bucky didn’t miss a thing when it came to Steve.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said, “for everything. For not finding you sooner, for not being there for you, for leaving you alone when you needed me. But I’m here for you now and I’m not going anywhere. ‘Til the end of the line, remember? I’m going to make good on it this time.”

Bucky closed his eyes. His heart desperately wanted to believe, but his head whispered that Steve would leave him again if he had the chance to return to Peggy, just as he always had. _Guard your heart. Don’t let him inside._

A warm hand cupped his cheek. “I mean it. We need each other because we’re better together. Always have been. Will you trust me not to leave you?”

_No. I can’t trust you, I won’t._ But his heart would always give Steve another chance. “Yeah, I will,” Bucky said, blinking his eyes open. Steve’s warm smile swam in front of him. “’Til the end of the line.”

Steve pulled Bucky into an embrace, and Bucky clung to him, letting the unshed tears fall at last.

“I’ve got you, just like you have me, okay? You and me against the world, just like always.” Steve rubbed one hand up and down Bucky’s back until he could pull himself together.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling away and swiping a hand across his eyes.

“Don’t apologize for a stupid decision I made,” Steve said, then corrected himself. “A decision the other me made. Was he really so jaded that he would abandon his best friend?”

“I don’t blame him. He went through his own personal version of hell. Death, destruction, helplessness, psychotic invaders from other planets, gods with a perverted sense of self-worth. It took a toll on him, and I don’t think you can judge him without walking in his shoes,” Bucky countered. 

“Fair enough,” Steve said, giving Bucky’s bicep one last squeeze. “Maybe I’ll find out more about him this afternoon when we visit the base.”

~*~

After lunch, Steve showered and changed and Bucky drove them upstate to the Avengers’ base outside of the city. In the aftermath of Thanos’ last attack, the remaining Avengers had begun salvaging what they could from the rubble. Bruce saved enough of Tony’s technology to begin rebuilding some of his more intricate machines. Wanda helped by using her powers to lift debris and sift through it. A safe contained a few salvageable hard drives, some flash drives and a couple of rough draft sketches of new Iron Man suits. Shuri took the latter back to Wakanda for further examination. 

When they arrived at the site, Bruce was already there, picking through a pile of bricks and sheetrock to see what lay beneath.

Steve hopped out of the SUV and froze, his eyes wide with fear as they landed on an enormous guy with green skin. “The big guy is out,” he whispered to Bucky. “We need to leave.”

“The big guy is always out,” Bruce said, turning around and waving at them. “We’ve reached an agreement.”

Steve’s eyes widened even further. “Bruce?” 

Bruce took three or four, long, loping steps and landed in front of them, dressed in jeans and a button-down and grinning like an oversized kid. “In the flesh,” he said, pushing up his shirt sleeves. “Steve. Wow. Pepper called and said you were back, but it’s still hard to believe it. Come here, you!”

Steve only yelped a little when Bruce hugged him and lifted him off the ground. “Missed you, buddy!”

Once Steve’s feet were back on the ground, he sputtered and replied, “I missed you, too, Bruce.” He glanced over at Bucky, who leaned casually against the hood of his SUV, shaking with silent laughter.

“You could have warned me,” Steve grumbled, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

“And miss your reaction? Hell no,” Bucky laughed. “That was priceless. I only wish I’d gotten it on video.”

“One thing hasn’t changed. You’re still a jerk,” Steve groused, but that only made Bucky laugh harder.

Bruce ignored the exchange entirely. “So, you’re from 2012. Interesting that the version of himself that Steve actually met is the one who was sucked through the time rift.”

“Time rift?” Steve’s attention shifted back to Bruce.

Bruce took off his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his shirt. “It’s only a hypothesis, but from what Tony and I deduced, multiple visits to the same point and time can cause tears in the time-space continuum. Each of those points in time from which the Avengers took an Infinity Stone is weaker now, more unstable. It seems like your timeline may have been the first one to rip completely, or at least the first one I’ve heard about.”

“Lucky me,” Steve said with a shrug. “Though I guess if I had to be dropped in another place and time, this one isn’t so bad.”

“Things have definitely been worse,” Bruce agreed, gesturing at the complete and utter destruction around them. “I’m thankful I lived to tell the tale. Are you here to help with the recovery efforts?”

“Yes and no,” Steve said. “I’m here to pick up my – his- motorcycle and look around a bit to see if we can find any of his things.”

Bruce pointed to a large tent under a tree a few hundred yards away. “We’ve only been at it for a week, but anything we’ve found that we could identify is in there. There’s also a box of miscellaneous stuff that you might want to dig through, just in case.”

Steve nodded and gestured for Bucky to follow him to the tent. As they approached they heard voices raised in an argument.

“They’re yours! Look at the size! 36 length! Nobody but you and Steve Rogers wore pants that long,” cried a woman with long red hair and a frustrated look on her face.

“They’re khakis and only grandpas and Steve Rogers wear khakis. Nobody with any kind of style wears khakis,” replied a black guy with close-cropped hair and an equally frustrated expression.

Steve looked down at his pants, which happened to be khakis, and cleared his throat. “Old habits die hard.”

Both of them swung around to face Steve and stood completely still for a fraction of a second. 

“Steve?!” The woman ran toward him and launched herself into his arms. “I thought you were gone.”

“I was, but I’m back, I think, from 2012.” Steve wasn’t quite sure what to make of her, but managed to not stumble when she landed in his arms.

She pulled back, looked into his eyes and placed a hand on his cheek. “You’re Steve, but not the Steve we knew.” With a sad smile, she dropped her hand and pulled away. “I’m Wanda. It must be hard for you, being thrust into the future.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, or I will be fine, once I get used to the idea of losing eleven years of my life. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.” Steve looked at the other guy, whose face still wore a look of slack-jawed shock.

“Hi, I’m Steve Rogers,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Dude, I know,” the guy replied, shaking Steve’s hand. “I’m Sam Wilson. We were best friends.”

“Good friends,” corrected Bucky.

“Best friends. Very best friends,” Sam shot back. “Best of best friends. You called me the best friend in the history of best friends.” 

Steve’s mouth twisted into an amused grin. “Hi, Sam. Even though I don’t know you, I’m sure you were good friends with the other Steve. Anyone who can piss Bucky off would absolutely be a friend of mine.”

“Note that he just said ‘good friends’,” Bucky scowled.

“I’m sure we were all friends,” Steve said, trying to be helpful. 

“No, we weren’t,” Bucky and Sam replied in unison.

Steve’s mouth opened for a second, then snapped shut. “Alrighty. Bruce said something about a box of my – Steve’s things.”

“It’s right here,” said Wanda, pointing to a cardboard filing box. “There are a few photos, a sketch book, one pair of shoes and several singles, and some clothes that could be salvaged with a good washing.” Sam tossed her the khakis and she handed them to Steve. “And a pair of khakis.”

Steve stared down at the single box. “Eleven years reduced to one box. I hope it will give me some sort of clue about the other Steve.”

Sam came up next to him and put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I know what you’re going through. When Thanos snapped his fingers, I lost five years. Came back in the middle of a firefight, but when that was over, I realized that most of my friends had moved on without me. It’s been tough, real tough, but as bad as five was, eleven is worse.” He gave Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. “Whatever you need, man, I’m here for you. Best friends are like that,” cutting his eyes at Bucky.

Bucky’s glare was sharp enough to cut steel. “Good friends.”

“I’ve got plenty of friendship for everyone,” Steve placated, eyeing each of them in turn. “It’s not a contest, there’s no grand prize winner.”

“You can’t have too many friends.” A long shadow blocked one side of the tent as Bruce lowered his head and stooped inside. “Also, I have another box of stuff if anyone can help sort through it.”

Wanda nodded her chin at Sam. “If we team up, it won’t take long.”

Steve bent over to pick up his own box, which he handed to Bucky. “Let’s go find my bike.”

They left the others to continue the salvage efforts while they headed back to the concrete pad near edge of the property where Steve had left to return the infinity stones. Sure enough, the motorcycle was right where Steve had left it, parked under a tree. Other than a few leaves on the seat and bird droppings on the rear chrome, it looked fine.

Steve walked a circle around it, bending down to look at the tires, running his hand over the leather seat. “She’s a beauty. He had good taste.”

“Well, he’s you, so, yeah.” Bucky shifted the box in his hands. “Did he leave the keys?”

Steve flipped up the seat and felt around in the storage area until he heard a jingle. “Yep. Right where I always left them.”

“Good thing you know you. Meet me at the truck and we’ll head back to my place to look through your crap.”

~*~

By the time they arrived back at Bucky’s apartment after a side trip to a big box store for sheets and towels and toiletries for Steve, it was late afternoon. They shrugged out of their jackets and kicked off their shoes, dumped the contents of the box onto the floor of Bucky’s living room and plopped down in front of the pile. A few things like the old sketch book and a few photos of the Howling Commandos Steve recognized immediately. Other things proved to be a mystery. Steve found a framed photo of him, Natasha and another dark haired man smiling at the camera.

“Who is that?” Steve jabbed a finger at the guy.

“Scott Lang,” Bucky said, leaning over Steve’s shoulder to look at the photo. “He was in the quantum realm when Thanos snapped the first time, and somehow was able to make it back out. He’s also the one who gave Tony the idea to collect the infinity stones by going back to five fixed points in time.”

“He’s a scientist, then,” Steve said, leaning his shoulder against Bucky’s chest.

“Nah, he’s a thief. Spent time in jail for armed robbery, but he’s a good guy. You liked him.”

Steve shot a skeptical look at Bucky. “If you say so.”

“You did! Why would I lie to you? You liked almost everyone,” chuckled Bucky. “You and Tony had a few tense moments, though.”

“That I can believe. He was a pompous ass, with an ego that was only outmatched by his ability to turn anything into a joke,” Steve griped. “But even then, he was my friend.” He set the photo back down atop the pile of stuff. “What did we argue about?”

“The Sokovia Accords,” Bucky said, leaning back on his hands. “It would put the Avengers under the supervision of the United Nations. You objected stridently and refused to sign them, saying it was a political overreach and amounted to censorship. And then there was the argument over me.”

Steve turned his head to look at Bucky. “What about you?”

Bucky sighed and stared down at his lap. “When I was the Winter Soldier, I was first and foremost an assassin, and I was very good at my job. It’s what I did, who I was, all I knew. Two of my targets were Howard and Maria Stark. I took them both out as ordered. Once Tony found out, he tried to kill me. You’re the only reason I’m still alive.”

“Oh,” was all Steve could manage, as the gravity of Bucky’s admission sank in. 

“You defended me, even when I didn’t deserve defending.” Bucky raised his eyes to look back at Steve. “You never stopped looking for me, never gave up on me, always believed in me. Without you, I’d be dead.”

Steve reached out and gave Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’ve always been the most important person in my life. Even when I had nothing, I had you. I’m glad we were able to have some good years together before I left.”

“Not years,” Bucky quietly replied. “After you found me, I was too unstable to safely be in society, so I had myself put back on ice for a year to let my mind and body heal. After that, I stayed in Wakanda and let the doctors there rehabilitate me. You visited a few times. Then the snap happened, and I was gone for five years. When I came back, we only had a short time together before he left for good.”

Steve’s entire face crumpled. “You’re saying we only had a few weeks together, total. Weeks, not even months.”

“Yeah.” Bucky lifted a shoulder. “You – he – had a chance to start over, to drop the shield and begin again with Peggy, so he took it. I can’t blame him. All I ever wanted was for him to be happy.”

“What was he like? The other Steve?”

Bucky scratched at the scruff on his chin. “Well, he was like you in a lot of ways, but more cynical and world weary. He’d always believed that justice would find a way, that truth would win out, that the good in mankind could defeat even the most nefarious among us. He thought he could make a difference, believed all the way down to his toes that he would be able to protect and defend those who needed him. Time, though, was a difficult teacher and he learned that good doesn’t always win and sometimes wrong prevails, despite our best efforts. I think Tony’s death was the last straw. Steve was exhausted, both mentally and spiritually, and did what was best for him.”

Steve stared silently at the pile of memorabilia in front of him, and tugged a singed photo from the middle of the stack. “I remember this,” he said, tilting it so Bucky could see. “We were eating at a Mediterranean joint. Tony had a craving for shawarma and talked us all into going. The waitress took our photo.” Six tired faces, smudged with gunpowder and rubble, smiled wearily at the camera. “It was three days ago. And eleven years ago.”

He handed the photo to Bucky and shifted to face him. “We thought we could handle anything. Invaders from another dimension? We wiped them out, and if we could beat them, what could possibly be worse? Anything else would be a piece of cake. That’s how I felt. That’s how we all felt. We’re smiling, hopeful. Where did our hope go?”

“Thanos,” Bucky said. “After he killed half the planet, it took you and Tony five years to figure out how to undo it, and even then, the price was incredibly high. Tony and Natasha both paid with their lives. Nobody was the same after.”

Bucky handed the photo back to Steve, who set it aside. “When Steve left, did he feel like the fight was over or that the fight couldn’t be won? What made him decide that a completely different life would be worth sacrificing everything and every relationship he had?”

“I can’t answer that.” Bucky leaned back against the sofa. “I guess he figured we’d all be alright without him.”

“But what about you?” Steve’s eyes searched Bucky’s until Bucky had to look away.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You may be fine, but he was an idiot.” Steve leaned over, nose-to-nose with Bucky until Bucky had to look at him. “You were always there for me when I needed you, and I intend to be there for you now. You’re my best friend.”

“Can I get that on video and play it for Sam?” Bucky smiled weakly.

“I’m serious,” came Steve’s earnest reply. “You’re stuck with me.”

“I don’t know if I’m worth it, Steve.” 

Steve cupped the back of Bucky’s neck, letting his thumb rub against his throat. “You’re worth everything. Always have been. Never doubt that. If there’s one thing that’s clear, is that he and I are two very different sides of the same coin. His choices were his, not mine.”

Bucky couldn’t speak so he simply nodded.

“Right.” Steve leaned back and let his hand drop. “I’m starving. It’s like I’ve never seen food before. Feed me or I’ll eat your sofa.”

“So demanding.” Bucky forced a calm smile even as his heart was racing wildly.

~*~

The next morning, a series of text messages pinged Bucky awake at an ungodly hour. Scowling, he fumbled on the nightstand for his phone and scanned them with sleep-groggy eyes. Nick Fury. All of them were from Fury. Sent at five-fucking-thirty am. Did the man not sleep? As he held the phone, another text popped up.

_Be at the Avengers Base by 7. Possible Hydra cell_

That had Bucky’s attention. He set his phone aside and sat quietly for a moment, his back propped against the headboard. Silence. Steve must still be in bed. Bucky rubbed his eyes, peeled back the covers and headed for the shower.

Ten minutes later, he pulled on a t-shirt and a clean pair of jeans and padded barefoot into the kitchen just in time to see Steve burst through the door, panting and sweaty, just back from a run.

“It’s nice out. Cool, not too humid, but it’ll warm up quickly,” he chirped like an early bird who’d just found a worm. “I can scramble some eggs for breakfast if you want to start the coffee.”

Bucky just looked at him with bleary eyes. “Breakfast?”

“Eggs. Scrambled, maybe with some cheese, if you have any.” Steve cut his eyes over at Bucky and chuckled. “Otherwise known as breakfast. Oh, right. I forgot you aren’t a morning person.” 

“Fuck you and your ‘morning person’ bullshit,” grumbled Bucky, reaching for the coffee carafe to fill with water. “No day should ever begin before sunrise.”

“There’s the foul-mouthed grouch I know,” Steve teased. “A good breakfast will improve your attitude. Maybe. Why are you up so early if you don’t have to be?”

“Fury.” Bucky poured the water into the back of the pot, placed the carafe under it and banged around in the cabinets until he found the coffee. “Possible Hydra cell. I’m the one with the most knowledge of how they operate, so I have to go in by 7 am.”

Steve gave Bucky a questioning look. “Hydra? Do you need me? I remember a thing or two about them.”

“Nah, not yet. Not until we know more.” Bucky scooped out the dark, fragrant coffee grounds into the filter and set the pot to brew. “How was your run?”

“Interesting. I hadn’t seen this part of the city since…well, since the 40’s. Only a couple of things have changed,” Steve deadpanned. He cracked a few eggs into a small mixing bowl and began to whisk them with a fork. “Sam Wilson texted me during the run, saying he was out running, too. We’re going to start meeting a few mornings a week to run together. Today, though, he’s taking me shopping. Something about me looking like grandpa.” He turned his head and gave Bucky a quizzical look. “Do I look that bad?”

“No, you always look great,” Bucky blurted out without even thinking, and then caught himself. “I mean, you could probably use a few pieces that are more current, some jeans, a new jacket, or whatever.” He cleared his throat and focused on the important task of finding coffee cups.

“Except when I’m a sweaty mess after a run.” Steve tossed the eggshells in the trash and waited for the pan to heat. “Considering I only have what is in my duffle bag, a shopping trip is a good idea. The only problem is, I don’t have any money.”

“Sam’s rolling in Avengers money, and technically, you’re still an Avenger, too,” Bucky said. “If he wants to tweak your wardrobe, let him put it on his card. Fury will foot the bill.” 

“Sam’s an Avenger?” Steve looked over his shoulder at Bucky.

“Yeah. You gave him your shield. He’s the new Captain America.”

~*~ 

Steve showered and dressed in a plaid button-down shirt and a pair of khakis, his mind racing all the while. He’d given up his shield? Bucky had done his best to explain the other Steve’s frame of mind, but he still couldn’t fathom his decision. The shield was both a gift and a responsibility, and giving it up was something he’d never even remotely considered doing. Even as wounded and exhausted as the other Steve must have been, he couldn’t imagine such a thing.

Around 10am, Steve’s phone buzzed. Sam was parked on the corner downstairs.

“Hi, Sam,” Steve said as he opened the passenger door and climbed inside. A glint of metal in the backseat caught his eye, and he swiveled around to look. A shield. His shield. Well, almost his shield. The one he was inspecting had been repaired, yet still bore the scars from multiple battles. Paint chipped around the edges. Four long claw marks cut jagged ridges along one side of it. Nicks and cuts and scrapes and dents spoke volumes about where it had been, the battles it had fought. Steve tore his eyes away from it and fastened his seatbelt.

“It’s yours. The shield. Now that you’re back, you can take it,” Sam said as he eased into traffic.

“No, he gave it to you,” Steve replied. “Besides, I have my own shield.”

“Two shields,” Sam mused with a smile. “I’ll hang mine up. Got just the spot for it in the rec room.”

“Why hang it up?”

Sam glanced at Steve for a second. “Because there can’t be two Captain Americas.”

“Says who? Two shields, two Caps,” Steve retorted. “If the other Steve trusted you with it, then you deserve it and I’d be pleased to work and fight alongside you…Cap.”

Sam smiled. “As long as you’re sure, I’d be honored to carry the shield, Cap.”

Steve chuckled. “We may have to flip a coin to decide who gets the nickname, because it could get kind of confusing.”

“You’ve had it for ninety years, so I’d say you have dibs. I like Falcon better anyway.”

Traffic cleared out a bit as they reached the outskirts of the city. Steve watched as the cityscape became more suburban and leaned his arm against the window. “What was he like? The other Steve?”

“A really good guy. Smart, nerdy as fuck but could charm the wings off a bird. Saw through layers of my own bullshit and called me on it. Hated being wrong, but would admit it when he was. More stubborn than a country mule. Determined. When he got hold of something, he was a dog with a bone. Try to get him to let go of it and he’d bite. I think I’m still sporting tooth marks on my hind end from the last time he was obsessed and I tried to get him to move on.”

“Obsessed,” Steve said quietly. “I guess I never let her go.”

Sam glanced over at him. “Let _her_ go?”

“Peggy.” Steve shifted in his seat to look back at Sam. “You said I was obsessed.”

“You mentioned Peggy sometimes, but you weren’t obsessed with her. It was Bucky you were obsessed with. The minute you saw him on the bridge, he’s all you thought about. How you knew he’d remember you, how you knew Bucky was somewhere under all the brainwashing, how you knew you could find him and bring him back. He was your entire life for a few years.”

Steve’s jaw dropped and dangled for a second before he managed to snap it closed. “Oh.”

“After you guys fought on the helicarrier, you fell and he followed you down into the water and pulled you to the shore. He saved your life and disappeared and we spent the next three years trying to find him. You and me and some shitty hotel rooms and questionable food choices.” Sam smiled wryly and shook his head. “You and I got close as brothers. You were my ride or die. Bucky, though, had your heart.”

Steve felt his heart thump hard in his chest. “My heart. Bucky had my heart. Were we friends or… more?”

“Don’t know, didn’t ask,” Sam said, “but you two had one hell of a bromance.”

“Why didn’t I stay, then? If I went through all that trouble to find him, if he had my heart, why did I only spend a couple of weeks with him?” Steve’s brow creased deeply.

“Cause you were fucking _done_. Done with everything, everyone. Tired of being a hero, tired of the weight that comes with it. You wanted a normal life, even if it meant leaving Bucky behind.”

Steve huffed out a sigh of disbelief. “Makes absolutely no sense. I would never have left.”

“_You_ would never have left, but you didn’t live through the last eleven years. You didn’t helplessly watch half the Earth’s population disappear and a good chunk of your friends die. He made his choice. You may not agree with it, but it was his to make.”

Steve let his gaze drift back to the passing cars. “I want to do right by Bucky, be there for him. He deserves that after all he’s been through.”

“Bucky fucking Barnes.” Sam snorted softly. “Back three days and you’re already catching feels again.”

Steve didn’t know what to make of that comment. “You kids and your slang.”

“Still a grandpa,” Sam chuckled. “At least you’re not in that lumberjack, man-of-the-woods phase.”

“I’d call you a liar, but I saw the photos.” Steve grimaced. “Was I trying to be Paul Bunyan? Did I become allergic to razors? Did I lose a bet?”

“You were feeling some kinda way,” Sam shrugged. “When a few of us Avengers refused to sign the Accords, the CIA locked us up. You broke us out and disappeared. Tony was pissed at you. Bucky’d iced himself. Weird time.”

Steve inhaled and slowly exhaled through his nose. “I can’t wrap my head around him. We’re the same person, same genetic code, same parents, same background but the choices he made aren’t the ones I would have made. Chalk one up to nature over nurture, I guess.”

“Hey.” Sam nudged Steve’s shoulder gently with the back of his hand. “I know it’s tough. I get it. I lost five years myself, and it’s taking a minute to feel right in my own skin again. Some days are better than others. Today, though, today is gonna be a good one. You know why?”

Steve grinned and shook his head. “No. Why?”

“Because we’re going shopping, bro.” Sam turned the Jeep into the parking lot of an outdoor mall. “When I get through with you, you’re gonna be on point, fleek, fly as hell. Brad Pitt’s gonna be like ‘daammmnnn, who’s that?’ All the honeys gonna be lining up for you.”

“I hope you have a lot of clams, then. If I’m getting new duds for my old keister, I want them to be killer diller.”

Sam put the jeep into park, turned off the engine and gave Steve a long look. “I have no idea what you just said.”

“Back at you,” teased Steve.

~*~

The guys shopped hard, hitting up nearly every store in the outdoor mall, and stopping only long enough to scarf down a chicken sandwich at a local fast-food joint in the mall food court.

“Can we at least sit here for a minute? My feet are killing me,” Steve complained.

“This version of you is the whiney version. Got it.” Sam raised one finger and checked off an invisible box in the air next to Steve’s head.

“I’m not whining, but come on? How much can one man wear? Look at all this stuff,” he retorted, gesturing at the multitude of bags and boxes on and under and beside the chair next to him.

“Steve, you have nothing. NOTHING. Those goddamn khakis don’t count,” Sam fired back at him. “And we still have to get footwear.”

“Oh my God,” Steve groaned, letting his head drop into his hands. 

Sam jabbed a finger in front of Steve’s face. “You’re not wearing those busted-ass saddle oxfords with new skinny jeans. If you want to dress like grandpa at home, that’s on you, but when you’re in public, you’re gonna look good because everyone knows that I took you shopping.”

“Fine,” Steve grumbled.

“Fine,” Sam shot back. “Get your shit and get moving.”

~*~

By late afternoon, Sam decided Steve had enough outfits to get him through for a while. That, and Fury had called to tell him if he made another purchase, he’d deactivate the SHIELD credit card. At the last shop, Sam commandeered a dressing room and styled Steve in one of the new outfits.

Sam positioned Steve in front of the full-length mirror and hovered just behind him, beaming proudly. “Bye-bye, Grandpa. Hello, Snack.”

Steve tugged at the sleeves of his new black, bomber jacket that fit just right in the shoulders and tapered in at his waist. The pale blue shirt underneath set off the blue in his eyes. The dark jeans hugged his bottom and fit snugly over his thighs. Steve didn’t feel entirely comfortable, but he had to admit that he looked good.

“I guess I am a snack,” he said, turning sideways in front of the mirror. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Damn right.” 

“Do you think Bucky will like it?”

Sam’s lips twisted into a smirk. “He’ll like anything you wear. You’re his bae.” 

“Bae?” Steve blinked, confused.

“Before anyone else. If there’s a better acronym for you two, I don’t know what it is.”  
He picked up the empty bag and dumped Steve’s old clothes into it. “If I ever see you in these again, we’re not friends anymore.”

~*~

It was nighttime by the time Sam dropped off Steve with all his new outfits back at Bucky’s apartment. Steve juggled his packages while he punched in the door code. “I’m back,” he called out, pushing the door open with his shoulder just as several bags slipped out of his hands and onto the floor. “Can you give me a hand?”

“Sure,” Bucky called from the den. “I thought you’d beat me back. You guys must have bought out the entire mall.” He rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. “Holy crap,” he breathed, his wide eyes glued to Steve. 

“You like?” Steve turned in a slow circle to show off his outfit.

“Yeah, I mean…yeah. You look great,” Bucky managed once he’d recovered his ability to speak.

Steve grinned and handed a few of the bags to Bucky and grabbed the ones he’d dropped. “Sam helped me choose it. I’m a snack.”

Bucky choked and nearly dropped the bags. “…the fuck, Steve?”

Steve’s face fell. “You don’t think I’m a snack?”

“…I…I guess…” Bucky felt his cheeks begin to burn because there was no good answer to that. He fumbled with the bags again and turned toward the den. “Do you even know what a snack is?”

“Sort of. What was the other thing he said? Oh, right. I’m your bae.”

Bucky flushed hotly. “I know you don’t know what a bae is.” But he did and so did fucking Sam. The next time he saw him he was going to kill him with his bare hands.

He raced blindly toward the guest bedroom to dump the packages on Steve’s bed and returned to the den just in time to see Steve shed his jacket. The T-shirt he wore was quite possibly the tightest thing Bucky had ever seen, followed closely by the jeans, which looked practically painted on. Fuck. Sam did this on purpose, that asshole.

“Is it hot in here? I think it’s hot,” Bucky mumbled, flinging himself toward the thermostat. He dropped it several degrees.

“It’s just you.” Steve squinted at him and put his hand on Bucky’s forehead. “You look flushed. Are you coming down with something?”

Bucky took a step back and shook his head. “I’m fine. Really. Completely fine.”

Steve looked at him quizzically and finally just shrugged. “Alright. Time to unpack my new duds.”

They took turns unfolding shirts and hanging up pants and lining up shoes until the guest closet was completely full of new garments. Bucky eyed Steve again. “I gotta give it to him. Sam has good taste.”

“No, I have good taste,” Steve said. “Sam made some suggestions and steered me in the right direction, but I chose every single item of clothing myself. I like them all, and I like the way I look in them.”

Bucky’s eyebrows flew up. “I do, too. I’m not used to seeing you so modern is all. You look great, but it’s a huge departure from your old look.”

Steve rested his hands on his hips. “I’m in a new time. I need a new look. Let the past stay in the past.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose even higher. “Who are you and what have you done with Steve Rogers?”

“Between you and Sam, I get that the other Steve dwelled in the past. Wallowed in it. Couldn’t – or wouldn’t – let it go, but I don’t want to be him. I want to be me and I want to make my own way, starting right now.”

“Somehow, you’re always able to surprise me,” said Bucky, a smile spreading slowly across his face. 

“Good.” Steve caught his own reflection in the mirror and smoothed a hand down his jeans. “I want to show off my new outfit. Let’s go out.”

Bucky blinked. “Out? Like, _out_ out?”

“Is there another kind of out?” Steve’s brow creased. “I know I’ve been gone for a while, but I thought going out meant having a drink. Maybe dancing.”

“No, yeah, that’s what it means,” Bucky sputtered. “I just didn’t know that’s what you meant. Give me a minute to change.”

Steve tilted his head and gave Bucky a critical once-over. Black jeans over biker boots, a long-sleeved black shirt and hair pulled back in a man-bun. “No, you look fine. Grab your jacket, Bae.”

~*~

The night was cool for May, and it was a great night to walk. Bucky already knew the neighborhood well enough to navigate it blindfolded. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, he’d walk the streets. “I’ve picked up a side hustle as a bouncer for a club a few blocks away.”

“A bouncer.” Steve side-eyed him. “Okay, tough guy.”

Bucky grinned, eyes twinkling. “Some punk-ass was giving the doorman shit about skipping to the front of the line. I convinced him he needed to let it go.” He raised his metal arm and wiggled his fingers. “Guy hired me on the spot. It’s not huge or fancy, but the beer is cold and the music is loud and the crowd is eclectic. Want to give it a try?”

“Sounds perfect,” Steve said, looping his arm through Bucky’s like it was the most natural thing on Earth. 

They heard the place before they saw it, heavy bass thumping, sending deep waves of sound through the still night air. It was a weeknight, so there wasn’t a line to get inside. Only a couple of skinny guys in ripped jeans and a girl with long, rainbow hair chatted up the bouncer.

The bar manager, a balding guy who was loitering behind the bouncer, spotted them and waved. “Bucky! Are you on tonight? I didn’t see you on the schedule.”

“Hiya, Mack.” Bucky gripped Mack’s hand and bumped their shoulders together. “No, just here where we can hang out and not get hassled.” He turned and put his hand on the small of Steve’s back and propelled him forward. “This is Steve, my roommate. He’s new to town.”

The corner of Mack’s mouth twitched upward as he studied Steve’s familiar face. “Good to meet you, Steve.” Leaning closer, he said, “I won’t say a word, Cap. What happens here, stays here.”

It took Steve a moment to realize that Mack meant he wouldn’t tip off the paparazzi or call his friends, or make a big deal out of Captain America hanging out in his bar. “Thanks,” he replied, extending his hand. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Mack shook his hand and opened the door. “Besides, if I didn’t look out for you, Bucky would kick my ass.”

“Yep,” Bucky grinned, nudging him as he walked inside.

The music was a wall of sound and hit them hard when they stepped inside, the base thumping so loud that the floor shook. The air was thick with sweat and perfume and excitement. Bodies crashed together and pulled apart and moved in unison to the beat of the music. Bucky put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and steered him around the edge of the packed dance floor, past the DJ, to a less crowded bar at the rear of the club. 

“What do you want? Beer?” Bucky leaned his hip against the bar and eyed Steve questioningly.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t get drunk anyway. I know. I tried.” Steve offered up a sheepish grin.

“Actually, you can,” Bucky countered with a sly grin of his own. “If you drink hard liquor fast enough, you can get a little buzz that lasts for about fifteen minutes. I know. I tried.”

“Really?” Steve looked impressed. “Then, let’s do some shots.”

“That’s my boy,” Bucky laughed, clapping Steve on the shoulder. He flagged down a bartender. “Tequila shots. Ten for each of us.”

The bartender started to balk at serving that amount of alcohol all at once, but once he recognized Steve, he relented. “Got it.”

“When did you try to get drunk?” asked Bucky.

“The night after you fell from the train,” Steve replied. “Drank an entire bottle of whiskey. Nothing. I would have done anything to forget even for a few minutes.” Steve looked away for a moment, and then forced a smile. “What about you?”

Bucky tilted his head and gave a tight-lipped smile of his own. “The night after you left to return the stones. Turned up a whole bottle of vodka and swallowed it down. The buzz lasted for about fifteen minutes, but that was fifteen minutes of not aching for you.”

Something in Steve’s eyes shifted and he stepped closer to Bucky. “You ached for me?” 

“Twenty shots,” the bartender interrupted, placing a tray of shots on the bar next to them. “Want me to run a tab, Bucky?”

Bucky grimaced, irritated at the distraction, but nodded. “Yeah. I’ll settle up on my next shift.”

He reached for two brimming shot glasses and handed one to Steve. “No more drinking to forget. Tonight’s about having fun. To good friends and good times.”

Steve clinked his shot glass against Bucky’s. “To making new memories.”

They each downed the shot, then quickly downed the remaining 18 shots. Bucky wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and placed the last of empty glasses back on the tray. “I think that did the trick.” He eyed Steve, whose cheeks were flushed prettily. “You feel anything?”

Steve licked his bottom lip, his eyes locked on Bucky. “I’m feeling something.”

Bucky’s heart flipped in his chest. He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up that this time around would be any different than the rest, but he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was the alcohol kicking in, but he felt bold. Stupidly bold. “Come on, handsome. Let’s dance.”

A little spark of mischief glinted in Steve’s eyes. “I’m a terrible dancer. Will you teach me?”

Bucky eyed Steve, the slow creep of alcohol fueled warmth clouding his better judgement. It was a bad idea, a terrible one, but the thought of Steve’s strong, lithe body crowding against his on the dance floor was one he couldn’t ignore. He’d never wanted anything so badly in his entire life, terrible decisions be damned. “Yeah.”

He took Steve’s hand and they snaked through the writhing bodies until they were somewhere close to the middle of the floor. Strobe lights flashed above them. Colored spotlights blinked on and off and moved in time with the DJ’s set. One song bled into the next, though the beat remained constant. Bucky swayed in time, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist and pulling him close. “Move with me,” he said, his lips against Steve’s ear. “Like this.”

Steve came easily, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck and matching the movement of his hips, stepping in even closer so that their crotches ground together. “Just like this,” he agreed, his blue eyes pale and gleaming in the dim light.

Bucky’s hands rested on Steve’s swaying hips, teasing under the fabric of that too-tight shirt that rode higher with every shift of his body. Skin, soft and hot and inviting, slick with sweat. Steve tipped his chin up and smiled. It was a dark, feral thing. Taunting. Daring. Tempting. _Touch me._ The relentless beat of the music matched the throb of his own heartbeat, the pulse under his skin. Bucky eased his hand along Steve’s spine and felt a fine shiver and the first rise of gooseflesh under his fingertips.

It wasn’t his imagination. He wasn’t dreaming it up. Steve was in his arms, his pale eyes blown dark with lust, reflecting the same need that bubbled up from his own core. He couldn’t tell if the intoxicating buzz in his head was from the alcohol or from Steve, but his inhibitions were completely gone, replaced by fearless audacity and ravenous, craving need. 

One hand slipped down to cup Steve’s jean-clad bottom while the other slid around the back of his neck. Courage, be it liquid or not, twined with burgeoning desire and he leaned in to brush their lips together. Once. Then twice. Then Steve’s lips parted and the hands on his shoulders tightened and the kiss deepened. 

Bucky lost all sense of time and place until another dancer bumped into his back and broke the magic of the moment. Everything came rushing back, the music, the energy, the mass of bodies pushing against them. He flushed and wondered if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Steve stroked the pad of his thumb over Bucky’s bottom lip. “It’s too crowded in here. Let’s go home.”

Bucky nodded mutely, still not quite believing what was happening. He let Steve pull him along by the hand, and they stumbled out the door and onto the sidewalk, heading toward Bucky’s apartment with a sense of urgency.

When they reach the first dark alley, Steve grabbed Bucky by the lapels of his jacket and shoved him into the shadows, eyes shining and cheeks flushed.

“Steve, it’s not safe here,” Bucky mildly protested as Steve pinned his back against the rough brick. He braced his palms against Steve’s broad chest, feeling the hard race of Steve’s heartbeat under his hand.

“Who’s gonna attack two supersoldiers? Someone with a death wish, maybe,” Steve chuckled. He pressed closer, chest-to-chest, slotting one thigh between Bucky’s legs.

“Ah,” gasped Bucky as Steve’s thigh pressed against his groin, already half-hard from their dancing. The delicious pressure made the world go sideways for a moment. A warm tongue licked a wet trail from the hollow of his throat and up along his jaw and he was nearly gone. “Steve,” he gasped again, pushing against his chest. “Wait…wait, slow down.”

Steve pulled back just far enough to meet Bucky’s gaze, his blue eyes nearly black with desire, but he didn’t push. The hand on Bucky’s cheek was tender, the thumb that rested on his throat, gentle. “Buck?”

“Are you sure? I need you to be sure that you want me. That you want this. Us. That you won’t regret it later on.” Bucky inhaled a deep, ragged breath and held it until he thought his lungs would burst then slowly released it. “Because once I have you, I can’t let you go. Not again. It would destroy me.”

Steve gazed into Bucky’s eyes, unflinching. “He broke your heart, didn’t he? Maybe he didn’t mean to, maybe he didn’t realize what he’d done, but he tore you to pieces, and you deserve better. You deserve to be cherished for your bravery and your heart, your strength of character and fearless determination, for your kindness and compassion and intelligence and wit, for being the best man I’ve ever known.” He swallowed thickly. “I’m not the Steve you knew, but I want to be the Steve you love. “

Bucky felt vulnerable, exposed, raw, but he forced himself to not look away. “You already are,” he said in a whisper. He fisted his hands in Steve’s jacket and pulled him into a kiss, warm and soft and slick and so incredibly perfect.

When he pulled back, hot breath ghosted over his lips, electricity sparking between them, igniting and Steve surged forward, claiming his lips again, needy and demanding.

Time stretched out, measured only by the thud of heartbeats and the slip of tongues and the tangle of fingers in hair and the breathless, needy gasps in the still night air. A random car horn jolted Bucky back to reality.

“Come on,” he said, reluctantly releasing his grip on Steve’s leather jacket. “The apartment isn’t that far.”

And it wasn’t far but it seemed like a thousand miles. Steve couldn’t stop touching him, sliding an arm around his waist, letting his hand rest on Bucky’s hip, ducking under his arm and draping it around his shoulder. For once, Bucky gave in and allowed his heart overrule his head, letting that intoxicating tonic of thrill and desire and joy wash over him. Love was a flood and he was drowning in it.

The elevator ride was an exercise in tense restraint. Just as the doors were closing, a middle-aged woman in workout clothes called out, “hold the door! The Bachelor is about to start and I can’t miss it!”

While she prattled on about Ted or Chase or Declan, Steve met Bucky’s eyes over the top of her head and winked. Bucky felt it as if it were a physical caress. The elevator couldn’t move fast enough.

Bucky fumbled with the door code, while Steve draped himself all over him, placing little kisses on the side of his neck and nuzzling his ear. “I can’t concentrate with your tongue in my ear,” he griped, finally shoving the door open with his hip.

“The Winter Soldier, famed assassin, felled by a flick of a tongue,” Steve teased following Bucky inside and kicking the door shut with his foot. “Wait until the others find out your weakness.”

“Not any tongue,” Bucky countered, “just yours. The thought of Sam’s tongue anywhere near my ear is enough to put me off solid food for a month.”

Steve grinned and reached for Bucky, hooking his hand on the front of his jeans and tugging him forward. “Good to know.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against Bucky’s earlobe. “There’s still a part of the apartment I haven’t seen yet. Can I get the grand tour?”

Bucky felt the warmth of Steve’s lips all the way to his toes. “Y-yeah. I think I even made the bed this morning.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve murmured, flicking his tongue over the shell of that enticing ear. “It won’t stay made long.”

“Ahh,” breathed Bucky, inhaling sharply. If he didn’t make it to the bedroom immediately, he might not make it there at all, and he really didn’t want their first time to be in the hallway on the hardwood floor. He grabbed Steve’s hand and yanked him hard toward the bedroom.

It was large, with an entire wall of windows and a glass door that opened up onto a balcony. At this time of night, the city was ablaze with lights twinkling like stars on the horizon. Before Bucky knew what was happening, Steve had pushed his back up against the glass panes, chest-to-chest, thigh-to-thigh, nose-to-nose. 

“It’s nice. I like it,” Steve said, his eyes never leaving Bucky.

“You haven’t even seen it.” Bucky rested his head against the glass, tipped his chin down and gazed up at Steve from under thick lashes. 

“I wasn’t talking about the bedroom.” Steve reached for the rubber band holding Bucky’s hair back and gave it a tug, his eyes following the slow cascade of dark curls as they fell along Bucky’s shoulders. “I like your hair. It suits you.” He slid his fingers through it, then let them tangle in it loosely at the base of Bucky’s neck.

“Messy and out of control, like the rest of me?” Bucky tried to sound breezy and nonchalant and failed miserably.

“Gorgeous, like the rest of you.”

Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. Bucky’s mouth went dry and he licked his lips to moisten them. 

Steve’s eyes followed the path of that tongue, then drifted upward again, dark and heavy-lidded with desire. “Bucky,” he breathed, leaning in to trace the path of Bucky’s tongue with his own.

Bucky sighed and parted his lips, and Steve claimed them with a deep, soulful, passionate kiss that stole Bucky’s breath away. He groaned low and deep, a guttural needy sound. He’d wanted Steve for so long, and if he could only have him once, he wanted it to last forever, to imprint on his soul every slow, teasing brush of lips to lips, every taste of plush, slickness that melted against his mouth. It was just a taste, but it was enough to set his blood on fire. He let himself be consumed and he burned and there was nothing of him left but the kiss and the moment and the way Steve’s lips ignited him.

When their lips parted, Bucky opened his eyes to find himself caught in a gaze that held him fast, hypnotic and dark, heavy-lidded and devouring. “Steve,” he began, but those kiss-swollen lips found the side of his throat and he lost himself again, trapped as Steve’s body molded against hip, pressing him hard against the window, and his words caught in his chest. “Steve,” he managed. “Have you done this before? Fucked a man?”

“No,” murmured Steve, a teasing flick of his tongue licking a hot line up Bucky’s jawline, “but I’m going to.”

Their mouths crashed together again like lightning striking and in an instant, Bucky was engulfed. Desire, feral and possessive, surged upward as if it were a living thing, claws ripping through him, teeth tearing him open, urgent need bleeding out of every pore. He wanted Steve with a ferocity that shocked him. Mouth-to-mouth, hip-to-hip, the slide of a thigh against his groin, the relentless throb of his heartbeat in his chest, in his ears, in his cock. Steve arched against him, the friction sweet torture.

He tore his lips from Steve’s and found the tender juncture where neck met shoulder, tasting the salt of Steve’s skin, sweaty and masculine and musky. He pressed his lips to it and bit down, feeling Steve’s entire body jerk when his teeth sank into him. Their bodies were an undulating rhythm born of need, desperate and wild, moving together in tandem. With his very last ounce of self-control, Bucky pushed off the window and gripped Steve’s hips hard with both hands and steered them both toward the bed. They fell onto it in a tangle of limbs, hands tearing at clothing, sending jackets flying and shirts tumbling and shoes thudding onto the floor.

Steve pushed up onto his knees and stared down at Bucky’s nude body, sprawled wanton and inviting over the bedsheets. “So beautiful.” A fleeting moment of reverence before they caught fire again. Steve’s searing fingertips traced every inch of Bucky’s body, mapping it intimately until Bucky writhed and mewled under his touch. He nestled between Bucky’s thighs, trapping him beneath his own bulk, feeling the hard shudder of Bucky’s body when he began to move. He rolled his hips upward and slowly dragged them back down, grinding, undulating, his breath catching as he rocked. Bucky bucked up to match him, hip-to-hip, need-to-need, in a scorching, hypnotic dance that was only the prelude of what was to come.

“Please,” gasped Bucky, his voice shredded and rough with tortured need. “Now.”

Steve’s eyebrow lifted in silent question.

“Nightstand,” Bucky groaned, his hand gripping at Steve’s hips, desperate for another white-hot lick of friction.

After a few seconds of blind fumbling, Steve’s hand closed around the bottle of lube and he grunted in satisfaction, holding it up like it was a trophy. “Got it. Now, how…do I…should I…”

“I’ll do it, but I want you to watch,” Bucky said, his voice dark and strained. “Don’t take your eyes off of me.”

While Steve sat back on his haunches, Bucky poured the viscous liquid over his fingers and reached between his legs, slipping two fingers inside himself. He arched and his back curved and his thighs flexed with powerful tension. With his other hand, he gripped his cock, stroking it in time to the slow thrusts of his own fingers.

Steve watched his every movement, transfixed, pupils blown wide with desire, and he couldn’t live without touching him. He slid his hands down along the inside of Bucky’s splayed thighs, feeling the powerful muscles clench and jerk under his fingertips, until his thumbs reached the crooks of Bucky’s thighs and caressed over the heavy sac that hung between them.

“Mmmph.” Bucky shook and trembled and moaned, all of those sweet indicators that he was already close to the edge. “I want you inside me.”

Steve didn’t have to be asked twice. He found the bottle of lube swimming in the ocean of wadded sheets and coated his cock with the slick?. The touch of his own hand was enough to tear a ragged groan from his own lips, but he took his time, crawling his way back up the length of Bucky’s sweat-slick torso, brushing his throbbing cock against Bucky’s abdomen, against his thigh, against his entrance. Their eyes locked. Steve sank into him, pushing slowly inside the tight heat that enveloped him. 

“Ahh!” Bucky sucked in a sharp breath and held it, arching upward as Steve pushed deeper inside of him. He dug his fingers into the meat of Steve’s shoulders, dragging them down his back and pulling closer still, skin against skin, until he didn’t know where he ended and where Steve began. More. He needed more. A shift of his hips and he saw stars. Pain and pleasure. Excruciating and sublime.

Slowly, Steve began to move, flexing his thighs, rolling his hips and submerging himself again and again. Pleasure gripped him tightly and the initial urge to go slow was snuffed out by a primal urgent need. He thrust again, hard and deep and was rewarded with a strangled cry that fell from Bucky’s kiss-swollen lips. Desire became a desperate thing, a rush and a flare and a churn that he was powerless against. The world narrowed to nothing but focused rhythm and thumping hearts and crashing bodies and blinding friction.

Beneath him, Bucky surrendered to him completely, spilling between their joined bodies as pleasure claimed him. 

Steve followed him over the edge a few moments later, unable to resist the pull of Bucky’s body as it clenched and spasmed around him. He collapsed on top of Bucky’s chest, utterly spent, breathless, boneless. “Is it always like that?”

“Like what?” Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s damp forehead.

“Electric. Dizzying. Intimate. Amazing.” Steve tipped his head up to look Bucky in the eye.

“No,” Bucky shook his head. “Only with you.”

~*~

Bucky’s phone erupted at 5:30 a.m. the next morning. He flung a hand out and flopped it around until he found the evil thing and blinked at the caller ID with bleary eyes. Nick Fury. Who else would it be?

“What do you want? It’s not even dawn yet.”

“Is that any way to talk to your supervisor?”

“Sorry. What do you want? It’s not even dawn yet, sir.”

Fury wasn’t impressed. “I want you to get your ass down here. Steve, too. Tell him to get dressed.”

“Steve?” Bucky swiped a hand down his face and glanced over to the blanket-covered lump lying next to him. “I’m not sure he’s up yet.”

“Then, roll over and wake him up.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open for a second before he regained his composure. “Huh?”

“Did I stutter? Roll the fuck over and tell him to get dressed. Be here by 7:00. Both of you.”

The line went dead. Bucky blinked at the phone. “How does he do that?”

“It’s better not to ask,” Steve mumbled, stretching both arms over his head. “You start the shower, I’ll put the coffee on, okay?” Steve said it like it was the most natural thing in the world that they’d spent the night making love and woke up in bed together.

“Sure.” Bucky sat up in the bed and pushed his hair back from his face. “You don’t have jump right back in, though. You can sit this one out, let Sam carry the shield.”

Steve grinned up at Bucky, lopsided and affectionate. “You know me better than that. When have I ever run away from a fight? Besides, who’s going to keep you from doing something stupid?”

Bucky snorted. “Please. That’s rich coming from you, Mr. ‘who needs a parachute? I’ll just fling myself out into thin air’.”

“Touché.” Steve chuckled and pushed himself up and into Bucky’s personal space, pressing a little kiss to the tip of his nose. “But I’m still going to be there, right by your side, bae.”

Bucky felt himself blush all the way from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. “You’re going to call me that in public, aren’t you?”

“Ohhhh, yeah.” Steve’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Every chance I get, around everyone I know. Bae.”

“I hate you so much sometimes,” grumped Bucky, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.

“I know.” Steve leaned in brushed Bucky’s lips with a quick kiss. 

“So much.” Bucky kissed Steve back, sliding his hand around the back of Steve’s neck.

“Mmm hmm,” Steve hummed in agreement against Bucky’s lips.

“With all my heart.”

“Me, too.”

They were an hour late to the meeting.


End file.
